The rain picked up, the sprinkles growing fatter by the second as thunder clapped in the distance. I jolted, my head snapping up so quickly I could’ve sworn I heard a crack in my neck. My eyes lifted to the dark clouds above the building holding my future as a flash of lightning skittered across the gray canvas. A second boom of thunder followed, encouraging me to pick up the pace, thus shortening the time I had to feed myself delusions.
An older gentleman stood just under the grand overhang, holding the door open for me as I approached, shaking out my umbrella. “Thank you so much,” I muttered automatically, feeling slightly dizzy.
“Have a good day,” he returned as I walked inside.
Oh, how I hoped it would be a good day.
I hadn’t had a good day since Hayes left my bed in the middle of the night—which was well over a month ago now—and I hadn’t seen any of the other Red Snake men outside of Grayson since that day Jake came in almost three weeks ago. Time was flying by, and I’d been doing everything I could to get Hayes out of my system—and my head. There had been no updates on him, but Carrie didn’t seem too worried. I took that as a sign that Hayes was right where he was supposed to be, doing thejob he was hired to do, and that I needed to be doing the same. Between working double shifts at Rossy’s and picking up extra shifts at the Buoy, sleep was a myth and fall break was done. I was supposed to be returning to classes tomorrow. Today was my first free day in over a month and a half. I hadn’t picked up any extra shifts; there were no projects or homework to do. Which meant today was supposed to be spent deep cleaning my tiny little apartment while blasting heavy metal in a last-ditch effort to rid my home of Hayes’ scent. It had lingered like a ghost, haunting me every time I crawled into bed, causing me to drift off to sleep and dream of him. I was delusional, yes, but I had chosen to believe that if I could get rid of the scent of his cologne, then I could get rid of him.
That had been the plan today.
A good, solid plan.
Until I got a phone call that made my stomach twist and my foundation of hope split in two.
My adviser, Mr. Tactine, needed me to come up to campus as soon as possible for a meeting about my “financial situation.” Last I checked, I didn’t have a financial situation. There wasn’t a problem with my funds, and my payments for each semester had been taken out regularly. On the drive there, I called my bank—I needed a human voice to confirm that my money was stillmymoney and nothing had touched it.
My money was still there.
So the question remained: why was I on campus on my only day off, climbing up three sets of stairs to get to an emergency financial meeting?
My throat was dry by the time I stopped in front of the large wooden door withEdward Tactineinscribed on the window in gold lettering. I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and whispered another delusional affirmation. “Everything is okay. This was alljust a fluke, and he is going to apologize for making me drive two hours for a fluke.”
Yeah, that should fucking do it.
I knocked on the door and took a step back, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder.
Seven and half seconds later, Mr. Tactine opened his door wide, wearing a smile dripping with pity, his brows furrowed with concern.
“Ms. Bennett,” he greeted in a tone similar to the one a distant cousin would use at your grandfather’s funeral. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”
Mustering up the remaining delusional hope I had left—a mere crumb—I gave him a practiced smile. “Not a problem!”
His dull eyes looked me up and down before he gestured for me to come inside. “Please, take a seat.”
The bastard didn’t even give me time to let my purse strap fall before he closed the door and asked, “Have you applied for financial aid, Ms. Bennett?”
My eyes followed him as he rounded his desk, taking a seat in his lumpy chair while double clicking the space bar on his keyboard. I stared at him, slightly dumbfounded, as his computer screen came to life, highlighting the misery etched into his face, the frown lines around his mouth, the worry lines between his brows and at the corner of his eyes.
“Ms. Bennett?” he prompted.
I blinked, shaking my head. “N-no, sir. Not this year at least. I used the last of it last year and didn’t see the point.”
The government wasn’t going to give me any more money. We both knew that.
His mouth flattened, forming a tight line. “I see.”
Silence filled the room, unnerving me, and my knee began to bounce. He watched me for some time, his hands folded in front of his keyboard, and my ears began to ring.
Something was very wrong.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice shaking. Normally, I could hold it together. Bring out Bitchy Margo and roll with the punches like I’d been doing for the last decade…but this…this wasn’t a regular punch.
This was going to be a knockout.
“The university implemented a new payment policy last year. I’m sure you’re aware of this, yes?”
My nod was rapid. “Yes,” I pushed out. “They take out the next semester’s payments three weeks before.”